


Sparks

by Tat_Tat



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, Holidays, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 09:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3114329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tat_Tat/pseuds/Tat_Tat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mabel makes a Mistletoe sweater to wrangle in smooches and gets a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“So what’s up with this sweater?” Mabel’s friend Katelyn asked. 

“I thought you would never ask!”

“I already wish I hadn’t,” she said darkly, adjusting the heat in her car. “Hey, I thought you said your brother was going to this party.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Katelyn rolled her eyes and Mabel sighed, falling back in the passenger’s seat. “He said maybe. Maybe!” 

Dipper always said maybe and never went out unless mysteries were involved. Mabel suspected that one reason was because going out in public meant changing out of his UFO pajama pants. The other reason was that Dipper didn’t like small talk and large crowds wore him out. Mabel on the other hand thrived on attention and could start a conversation with anyone.

Sometimes Mabel wasn’t sure who was more annoyed by Dipper’s introvert ways: herself or the girls who had a crush on him. 

Mabel for the most part agreed with the girls who liked him, Katelyn included. “Sorry,” she said.

“It’s okay. So about your sweater. . .?”

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s a -insert drumroll- mistletoe sweater!” Mistletoe plants were woven into the forest green sweater and pipe cleaners stuck out in several directions from it, holding mistletoe on their ends.

“Is it a fire hazard?” That was the second question Katelyn always asked when it came to Mabel’s sweaters, ever since an incident in Chemistry class. They weren’t lab partners anymore and she was relieved Mabel didn’t take it personally. 

“It’s a fun hazard,” Mabel answered confidently.

“Is it going to get us arrested?” A certain “Built-in Catnip” sweater had drawn attention from the cops on two occasions. Once it had been mistaken for marijuana, the other time, for oregano (a pizza parlor had apparently reported an oregano thief that day). 

“Of course not! It’s just a sweater so I can smooch some cute boys.”

“Yeah. THAT won’t get us arrested,” Katelyn said dryly, and for a moment Mabel was reminded of Dipper, who had said the same thing to her several times before. Maybe if Dipper wasn’t such a hermit butt they would be a cute couple, Mabel thought. 

Katelyn parked the car on the front lawn where most everyone else had parked. The street was lined with cars on both sides. Mabel had a good feeling about this party, and Katelyn, despite expressing her concerns earlier and Dipper bailing on them, seemed hopeful too. She was fixing her bangs in the car mirror and applying a new layer of lipstick. Mabel licked her lips and tasted her cotton candy lipgloss. She hoped the boys at the party would appreciate it. Katelyn had once suggested she try out lipstick for a more mature look. Mabel argued that the way to anyone’s heart was through their stomach, thus her collection of flavored lipglosses. 

After locking the car, they made the trek across the lawn, weaving through the cars towards the house. The front porch vibrated under their feet from the music blaring downstairs. They entered the house, instantly enveloped in laughter and chatter and the bass pumping down below. Both girls scanned the crowd, first for atmosphere, and then their friends. Mabel picked out a few prospective guys and smiled, tugging on the sleeve of her sweater. She had a good feeling about tonight.

X

Mabel’s back was pressed against the wall, waiting for the restroom. More specifically, the cute guy she stalked all the way up to said restroom. In total she had tested out her sweater on two boys. The first was too shy to take the initiative so she took care of the rest. The last one was tipsy and in dire need of a breath mint.

Still, no sparks from either. She did like the idea of racking up a record number of smooches, but some trace of her was hopeful that one kiss would lead to something more. Something deeper. 

Guy number three had been in there for awhile and Mabel was beginning to lose hope. She looked down the hall, which was surprisingly vacant with the number of guests stuffed into the house. 

“Alrighty, cutie numero. . . whatever is Spanish for ‘three’! If you don’t get out of there in exactly one minute -”

She drifted off, attention span lost finally noticing the figure down the hall, his back turned and texting on his cell phone. 

Mabel took tiny, eager footsteps towards him. Details came into focus as she approached: his wavy brown hair, the way he took the trouble to put on a button up shirt but neglected to straighten the collar, and his scent. . . 

He smelled like roasted coffee beans and pine needles, and also, familiar. He smelled safe, like a warm blanket or a firm hug.

Her heart was pounding, and she knew this was it: the feeling she had been missing with the other guys tonight. 

Her cellphone buzzed in her back pocket but she didn’t notice it. The sprigs of mistletoe hanging off her sweater hovered over him and she giggled. “Hey, look! Mistletoe!”

He spun around and she pulled him into a kiss. His mouth was stiff against hers for a moment, and then softened. The phone in his hand fell to the floor, the case and battery scattering. What started as a rough kiss slightly off mark, became light, their lips teasing against the other. His hand captured her’s, and she didn’t notice it but he tugged on the sleeve of her sweater. Then stopped, hand falling from her’s, and his lips thin and tense.

She pulled back, and her smug grin fell. 

“D-” 

She couldn’t bring herself to say his name, and his own expression mirrored her own. They both looked like they had not only seen a ghost but also opened a present only to find a pair of socks instead of a new videogame: inwardly screaming and maybe disappointed. The shock was washing over that initial feeling in waves, and Mabel was at a loss for words. The last time she had felt like this was when Norman revealed that he was a conglomeration of gnomes. 

The colour was coming back into Dipper’s face and he gave an awkward smile in reassurance.

“So uh. . . hi.” His cheeks were turning red, and Mabel was starting to get feeling back in her body too, but now instead of being paralyzed she was burning up. Worse, her heart was beating fast against her chest, faster than earlier. The feeling was as familiar as Dipper’s scent and her mind was reeling. She stepped back. Her legs felt distant from her feet, as if she was walking on stilts. Dipper made a move towards her, she would realize later to comfort her, but in that moment it was too much, and she dug deep into her pockets and threw confetti in his face.

“Glitter camouflage!” she yelled, and ran off. She rounded the corner and dropped to the ground, pressing her back against the wall, her hand over her heart that just. Wouldn’t. Stop. Beating. Dammit.

Distantly she heard someone say, “Dude. You’re already leaving? You just got here!”

Dipper chuckled distractedly. “Yeah. . . something came up. Sorry.”

She sat there, relieved that he was leaving, and troubled that he didn’t chase after her. She began to chew on a strand of hair. She didn’t want to be at the party anymore, but she also didn’t want to go back home. Dipper would be home.

The guy she had stalked to the bathroom finally emerged, passing by her. She threw off the sweater and dragged herself back into the crowded living room. 

Everything was different now.


	2. Chapter 2

The morning sun trickled into Mabel’s room, rousing her from sleep. She rolled over, wiping the drool from the side of her mouth, blinking in and out of sleep, details slowly coming into focus. There were the Christmas lights strung up around her room, lit up even during the daytime, year round. Faintly in the background the radio played a holiday jingle. She had trouble sleeping last night and had fallen asleep to an early morning talk show. 

She reached for her phone under her pillow, then paused. Last night’s events flashed through her mind, waking her completely. The details were so crisp and fresh it felt like they had happened yesterday-- which it had, but that wasn’t the point. The point was she still remembered how Dipper held her hand as they kissed. The fact that they did kiss. The fact that she wanted to kiss him again.

Her hand closed around the phone, the case caked with layers of scratch'n'sniff stickers and a dozen Pokemon phone charms hanging from a mass of twisted string. 

She swiped through it to check the time. It was twenty minutes past eight and she had had only four hours of sleep. She was an early bird no matter how much sleep she had. Her body ached but she knew she wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, even though she felt like a zombie. 

She set her phone down, relieved that Dipper hadn’t texted her in the last four hours. There was one text message sitting in limbo that she hadn’t responded to. She remembered sitting in a late night diner with Katelyn, seeing she had a new message but refusing to look at it. 

“You okay?” Katelyn had asked the third time, confused that Mabel had abandoned her mistletoe sweater and wanted to leave the party after only an hour.

“Did a guy cross some boundaries?” she gently asked again.

Mabel shook her head, swirling a fry in gooey cheese sauce. “No. Just. . . personal stuff. Sorry. I don’t want to talk about it.” She wanted to wallow in cheese fries, ashamed of herself.

“You can tell me whenever you’re ready,” she offered and didn’t press the subject again.

Mabel eventually did check the text message and wasn’t surprised it was from Dipper. What did catch her off guard was that it wasn’t a fumbled apology.

>Mabes, you’re not going to believe this but I’m at the party. Just got here. Where are you?

A sudden realization followed, that Dipper had been texting her right as she was creeping behind him and decided he was her next smooch target. 

She still couldn’t believe she hadn't known it was him. Sure, he was wearing a collared shirt (that needed ironing) and he had brushed his hair that night. Oh! And he'd shaved. But still. 

Still. . . .

She didn’t hear Dipper snoring from the other side of their thin walls, which meant he was awake. Idly she pulled a strand of hair in her mouth, and then added more hair, chewing nervously. She peered outside her room and was relieved the hallway was bare. Dipper’s door was also closed, and she heard swords clashing-- he was playing a videogame. He obviously didn’t sleep last night either. 

She wondered how she was going to avoid him. She wasn't ready to talk about the kiss. Definitely not ready to talk about that. Mabel was used to speaking her mind. None of her friends trusted her with secrets, and she never understood the purpose of secrets. Like, was that just a game for nerds to be mysterious? She didn’t know. Until now. 

She spat out her hair, now running her fingers through it, pulling out stray strands. Another nervous habit. 

If they did talk about it-- and they would-- she wasn’t sure that she could hide that she liked the kiss. That in mere seconds he had accidentally swept her off her feet, and he was her flavor of the week. 

She stopped, a hopeful smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. That was it! Dipper and Katelyn always told her she had a new crush or boyfriend every week. She always gracefully ignored those comments before, but now they gave her hope that in a week or less she would see Dipper as just her nerdy brother again. She snorted. 

“That won’t take long,” she said to herself.

The guys Mabel normally fell for had good fashion sense and didn’t think about conspiracies and the supernatural. Normal guys with long flowing hair. . . maybe a vampire. Or Werewolves were also ideal.

Guys that were not Dipper, who complained that it was cold while wearing worn UFO pajama pants with holes in them. Dipper who, on the occasion Mabel had successfully set him up on a date, would get distracted by a chimera crossing his path.

She stepped into the kitchen, beginning to pour cereal into a bowl when the guy invading every corner of her mind came up behind her.

“Hey,” Dipper said, and cereal and tiny marshmallow stars spilled all over the floor.

“Five second rule!” Mabel yelled, bending over to retrieve the cereal. It was a good excuse to not look directly in his eyes, to hide her own flushed face.

She glanced up for the briefest of moments and noticed that he had kept his distance from her, respecting her space. She wasn’t sure if that made things more awkward or helped. They never had to worry before about “being too close” to each other. Sure, they didn’t hold hands as much and the cuddling had dwindled when she started dating and had boyfriends to snuggle with on the couch, but they never overthought something as small and banal as sharing the same space.

She stood up, setting the bowl aside. Their eyes met, lips drawn thin. Dipper averted his eyes and she realized he was waiting for her to say something first.

“Sorry,” he finally said.

“Oh, it’s just cereal.” Mabel rolled her eyes, pretending that was what he meant.

“No. Um. . . I mean last night.”

“Oh. . .” she said, acting surprised, but not convincingly. “It’s not your fault. I-- blargh-- wasn’t looking.”

“Yeah.” He laughed uneasily and she started to laugh too. Too loudly. Her heart was pounding, hoping she didn’t sound obvious. Subtlety had never been her thing. She used to pride herself on her openness, but now she hated it. 

“We can just forget about it.” Dipper shrugged with a gratuitous roll of the eyes. “I mean, it was just a mistake and a small . . . erm. . . kiss.”

“Right,” Mabel said, just to say something.

“It didn’t mean anything.” 

“Haha . . . Right! Right you are, oh bro of mine,” she said, the words slicing clean cuts through her chest. She wanted to cry right there and she could feel the corners of her eyes moisten. It took everything inside her to swallow the sad feelings down. Ugh. That felt terrible. Denial is painful, she thought.

She picked up her bowl, forgetting the milk. The milk was the furthest thing from her mind, Dipper the closest. 

“I gotta go. I gotta. . . “ She looked at the bowl of cereal cradled in her arm. “This cereal can’t eat itself. That would be cannibalism. You could say... a ‘cereal killer’.”

Dipper grabbed her hand before she made it out of the kitchen, concerned. “Hey. . . we’re still cool. Right?”

Mabel bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to think or feel. His hand was tense around hers and she didn’t want him to let go, but she needed him to. 

“Yeah, Dip. Always.” And she meant it.

X

Three weeks in counting and her heart still pounded at the thought, the sight, the sound of him. The other day her mom asked her to do laundry. She thought nothing of sorting whites, darks, and reds, used to doing this chore. Then her hands dove into Dipper’s laundry basket and her insides turned to mush. She could smell him everywhere suddenly. The armful of clothes felt warm, as if he had shucked them off only moments ago. 

The smell was much more intense than that first Saturday of December when she came up behind him. There were traces to it that she didn’t notice before, like warm fireplaces and orange peels with cool sage and rosemary undertones. She remembered how he had held her hand tenderly when he kissed her, how he had held her hand earnestly the next day, asking, full of doubts, “We’re still cool, right?”

From then on it was like a set of dominos, one memory triggering another. Drinking hot cocoa on the couch, watching a movie, the easygoing smile he gave her as she ran across the school parking lot to the busted up car they shared. His voice, gently helping her through the math problems she was having trouble with. His brow furrowed, the way he chewed a pen and stared at a blank computer screen. The next moment, relaxed, smiling slightly, pouring over book after book. 

She was getting better at keeping her own secrets, locking away those moments for safekeeping within herself. She still had to be careful. Just when she was confident that she wouldn’t break, his hands traced over hers, igniting her flesh with the innocence of a Christmas gift exchange.

She was waiting and afraid for that moment when their hands would cross absentmindedly and she wouldn’t let go.

Along with all the warmth spreading through her body came the sharp hollow pain. Sometimes she used those words to ground her back to reality.

“It didn’t mean anything,” she said bitterly, throwing his clothes in the wash with disdain.

X

“Do you need me to pick you up for the New Years Eve party tonight?” Katelyn asked over the phone.

“No thanks.”

Silence, and then, “Girl, are you okay?”

“Not really.” Mabel replied honestly. “I have a cold,” she lied.

She hated lying but she didn’t know what she was supposed to say. She trusted Katelyn, but not with the muddy secret she was knee deep into. Mabel didn’t know who to talk to about it. Her two options were her best friend and the other the object of her affections. 

She put on the sweater she had made just for today: a giant baby next to a clock holding a glass of champagne. She may not be going to the party but she could still dress for the occasion. Staring at herself in the mirror hanging off her closet door, still thinking about who she had no one to talk to about her crush, a realization knitted itself together within her.

“I should just tell him,” she said, the knots leaving her chest.

Mabel waited until later that night when their parents left for a New Year's Party. They had been confused that Mabel was still home, and Dipper was too, but no one pressed the issue. 

When the door closed in front of them, they turned to each other, Mabel with a forced smile, thinking about her confession game-plan. Dipper shrugged, his eyes drifting from the closed door to her. His eyes finally rested on her and she felt herself grow warm and self conscious, as if her brother could read her mind and knew her lone secret. She swallowed, throat tight. She stepped back without thinking and Dipper broke eye contact, muttering something about being hungry. He trekked to the kitchen and she started to retreat to her room, stomach flipping at the thought of confessing. She stopped halfway up the stairs, then ran down them, meeting Dipper in the kitchen. He was head first in the fridge, pulling out the catsup, mayo, and sliced roast beef.

“We need to talk,” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Dipper closed the fridge behind him, his eyebrows raised. It wasn’t strange to talk things over in the kitchen, whether it would be about mysteries and conspiracies or Mabel’s love trouble and math homework.

“Is this the kind of talk that goes with a sandwich or cake batter?”

“Uh. . . neither?” she said, rubbing her arm. 

“Oh boy.” Dipper sighed, leaving the condiments and roast beef on the kitchen counter. He pulled up a chair for Mabel and sat in the chair next to it. His eyes were raised to hers, quietly waiting for her to talk, concern and worry crossing his features.

“Dipper. . .” Mabel frowned, subconsciously chewing on the ends of her hair. “Remember that thing on Saturday?”

“No. . .?” 

“You know! The party!” she hissed, face turning red. She was starting to take back this conviction she had about confessing but it was too late now. 

Dipper swallowed, turning his face away slightly. “You’re still worried about that, Mabes? We said it didn’t mean anything.”

Mabel couldn’t stop herself after bottling it in for so long, grumbling slightly, “Yeah, well it meant a lot to me.” She quickly turned away from Dipper, pulling her knees up to her chest and the sweater over her legs. She sunk into the neck of the shirt, leaving only the top of her head visible.

She was beginning to consider falling out of the chair to roll away in a sweater-town ball when Dipper knocked on the table next to her seat. "Knock, knock."

"No one's home." 

"Hi, no one."

That was enough to make her poke her head out. "Dipper, really? A dad joke. You haven't earned the right."

Dipper rubbed the back of his neck, eyes going from Mabel to the kitchen sink. "Mabel, do you-” He swallowed, face red. “Do you love me?” 

Mabel watched him, noticing for once how he was acting. He was a jumbled mess like she was. She had just been too caught up in herself to see before. She emerged from sweater-town like a turtle out of its shell. 

“Dip. . . you’re being awkward and sweaty.” She bit her lip, chancing it. “Do you love me? Like, Wendy love?”

“Ye- nomaybimeaniloveyoulikeasister. . . okaythatdidn’tsoundconvincing.” 

Mabel didn’t catch any of that, only the awkward lovestruck inflection behind the rush of mumbled words. Dipper’s hand was still on the table, balled up in a fist, now shaking. Mabel placed her hand over his confidently.

“I love you,” she said, standing up to kiss him.

Whatever he had planned to say evaporated. His balled up fist flattened and Mabel’s fingers ran up and down the back of his hand, smoothing away the tension. He kissed her back at the corner of her mouth, and several kisses followed: on her brow, her eyelids, the apples of her cheeks. All of his pent-up feelings were slowly uncoiling until neither could take it anymore. They weren’t sure who had started it; Mabel was a little annoyed that he was skirting this even with her obvious consent, and he was lost in her smile.

He pulled back briefly. “Um, wow.”

“That’s an understatement! Oh boy! You have noooo idea how long I’ve wanted to do this! Almost a month! A month, Dipper. That’s like forever in Mabel years.”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah? Try nine months.”

Mabel raised a finger, then dropped her hand, twisting her lips in thought. Nine months was a long time in Mabel standard time. 

“So what now?” 

“I don’t know-- I mean. Mabel, I want to but we’re... you know.”

“I know,” she said, squeezing his hand. “But I put a lot of thought into it. You know how you and Katelyn say I have a crush per week? Well, I tried. I tried to wait it out. But it just wouldn’t go away. I think that means something. Plus, you just told me you’ve had these kind of feelings for ages. Maybe you want to walk away and hope it all pans out normal but it’s not going to be like that.”

“I know,” he said, running his thumb over her knuckles, “I’m just afraid we’ll get hurt. I like what we have as just siblings. I don’t want to ruin that just for this.”

“Dipper, you’re my bro first. Always. After that you’re my bestie.” She pressed herself against his chest, hugging him tenderly. “We don’t have to date if you don’t want to. I just wanted you to know how I felt. Buuuuut if you ever want to take me out for ice cream I’m not going to say no.”

“There’s some ice cream in the freezer.” 

Mabel pulled back, wearing a dramatic face of shock, her fingers delicately touching her lips. “Oh my, Sir Dippington. Are you asking me out on a date right now?”

“Well. It is New Year’s Eve. And I don’t have a date.”

“What kind of ice cream?” Mabel asked with a smirk.

“Chocolate Moo-latte,” he whispered, voice husky. “And then, I was going to drizzle hot caramel and chocolate syrup on top with frosted animal crackers.”

“Go on.”

“Dark chocolate chunks and peanut butter.”

“Will there be sprinkles?” she asked, eyes glazed.

“The best for last.”

“All right. You drive a hard bargain, Mister Dipster. I’ll be your date tonight.” 

She hovered around him as he started making the ice cream sundae until he shooed her away for being too invasive. “Go pick out a movie for us to watch,” he said.

He returned five minutes later with a tray full of sandwiches and her ice cream sundae, just as the opening credits of Finding Nemo began. They watched the movie, and then another Disney movie until they fell asleep, hand in hand and the DVD menu replaying the Menu screen over and over again. The New Year had yet to pass, but they already felt something new had grown between them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter is centered around Valentines Day. While the past two chapters were centered on Mabel, this one is more Dipper focused. It's a flashback about Dipper discovering his own feelings. 
> 
> I had so much fun writing this holiday collection. Thank you so much for reading and commenting.

The door slammed unexpectedly and Dipper dropped his book, furrowing his brow. 

“Um, okay,” he whispered, cautiously sneaking a glance at the foyer. 

Mabel was there, kicking her shoes off in frustration. Her nose was red and eyes swollen and wet. Mascara was running down her cheeks, a scarf and pair of mittens clenched in her shaking hand.

Before Mabel said anything, Dipper already had an idea of what happened. He set the book aside without a bookmark in place. He waited for her to plop down on the couch beside him, but she didn’t. She ran upstairs, wiping her ruined makeup with the sleeve of her fuchsia sweater.

Fifteen minutes later he was knocking gently on her bedroom door, a bowl of cake batter in the crook of his arm. The door was covered with scratch'n'sniff stickers, boyband posters, and pictures of dewy-eyed kittens ripped out from old calendars. Somewhere amid the mess she'd made a sign with her name surrounded by hearts. 

Dipper grimaced at his knuckles. After knocking on the door, they were coated in glitter. 

“Mabel,” he called.

“Mabel’s not here.”

“Then who am I talking to?”

“A voice recording of Mabel that she left at her door.”

“Then how do you know what I’m going to say?”

“You’re just that predictable.”

At least her sense of humor was intact, Dipper thought, turning the knob. It was unlocked, as if she expected him to follow her. 

He sat down next to the curled-up form buried under Care Bear and pony blankets. 

“I brought cake batter,” he announced.

She stirred under the covers. “Sprinkles?”

“Check.”

“Chocolate chips?”

“Of course.”

“Brownie bites?”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

“Your blood, sweat, tears, and other bodily fluids?”

Dipper recoiled slightly at that. “Dude. Gross. No.”

She shimmied out of the covers and poked her head and arms out of her sweater. “Just checking,” she said, taking the bowl of cake batter from him

He handed her a spoon and brandished one of his own. They sat in silence over the gooey, sugary mess. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and though she smiled slightly after each bite of cake batter, she didn't smile for long.

“This needs ice cream,” she said, breaking the silence, sighing. She looked down at her sweater, specially made for Valentines day. It was a mural of red felt hearts with smiley faces, clashing with her current state.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Mabel pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, covering the sweater design. “Like, who breaks up with someone on Valentines Day? Poopy jerkwads, that’s who.” She pressed her forehead against her knees, resisting the urge to cry. 

Dipper set aside the empty bowl and wrapped an arm around her. Her head leaned against his shoulder, and she nuzzled him. The scarf and mittens were by her side and as she hiccuped, sobbing a little she started to grip the handmade gift, hands weak and shaking. 

Dipper couldn’t begin to understand how his sister felt. He never cared for Valentines Day and never had a date to share that day with, unlike Mabel. He could easily devalue her pain, comparing it with his own. But he didn’t. The thought didn’t cross his mind, but the insecurity that he couldn’t properly console her did. 

He pulled her into his lap and into a tighter hug. She fit into his arms like she was meant to be there and something skirted his thoughts. It was something he tried not to think about, but did because she was warm and fragrant, her eyelashes brushing against his collarbone as she blinked back tears. 

Instinctively he found himself stroking her hair. The action was familiar, and he wouldn’t doubt if he had done it before to comfort her some time ago. The difference in the action now was he noticed how soft her hair was and how the waves curled around his fingers. His fingertips brushed against her scalp, and he leaned forward, about to plant a kiss on her forehead. A breath away, he stopped.

It was like something heavy and copper had fallen into the pit of his stomach, that same thought skirting his conscience again, prying open a Pandora's box of thoughts he struggled to keep shut. He stared at the scarf and mittens, spun from the housecat, Tilly’s fur, and thought about Mabel giving that gift to him. He had over thirty scarves, sweaters, and mug cozies from his sister but he wanted that gift clutched in her hands. Because that set of mittens and a scarf was meant for her boyfriend and deep down, that’s who he wanted to be. 

“Dipper?” Her head poked out, her eyes were still glistening but there was hope there now-- and chocolate sprinkles all over the front of his shirt.

“Y-yeah?” He swallowed.

“Thank you.” 

“No prob, Mabes.” She started to settle against his chest again and his heart pounded. He was suddenly afraid. Not of her, maybe of himself, and all of how far this could go. Before that could happen, he said, “Hey. You know all that Valentines Day candy is going to go on sale tomorrow.”

She jumped up. “You’re right! We are so going to buy--” Her stomach gurgled and she keeled over, clutching her belly, the pound of cake batter finally catching up with her. “Urrrgh. Good thing you didn’t add ice cream. How are you okay?”

Dipper proudly patted his belly. “Iron stomach.” 

Mabel retreated back under the covers. “Can you find the Pepto Bismol?”

Dipper resisted resting his hand on her shoulder blade and instead stood up straight away. He was halfway out the door when she called his name again. 

“I love you,” she said, voice muffled under the layers of covers.

He stopped. The words, so innocent, held him to the spot. He knew she didn’t mean it that way, but his face reddened all the same and he hesitated to return the sentiment. 

Instead he said, “Yeah. Right back at ya, Mabes.”


End file.
